


Depression

by WolfjawsWriter



Series: Carlyle and Skull [2]
Category: Lockwood & Co. - Jonathan Stroud
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Comfort, Comfort/Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Other, The Count of Montecristo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 05:53:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15260841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfjawsWriter/pseuds/WolfjawsWriter
Summary: Paying attention to your team mates is always a good idea





	Depression

_“You know, when I said you could ‘loose some weight’ I meant you should do more exercise not ‘starve and exhaust yourself to death'”_

 

Depression was more appropriate to what the skull meant.

Even weeks after the Bloody Footprints case was solved I couldn't bring myself to snark back at the skull; George had made sure to give me a piece of his mind about the events on the stair, Holly had only regarded me with disapproving and pitiful looks for a good amount of days and Lockwood had nearly bitten my head off when scolding me for my recklessness. 

And so, in my attempts to show my gratitude towards the others, I secluded myself to my mind: silent, respectful, obedient, only giving opinions when asked, and commenting when absolutely necessary. But my silence reached me in ways I couldn't stop now; it made me sleepless, took my appetite away, and sucked my energy from my bones.

I wasn't sure Lockwood had noticed, since he was mostly out, but when he wasn’t he’d ignore me, Holly had occasionally commented on me looking tired, but beyond that she remained distant. George, though, was a different story; he’d leave me notes on the thinking cloth reminding me to eat something, or he’d leave Holly instructions to make me a plentiful meal _(which I never really ate)_ , sometimes he’d bring me along with him to whatever he was going to do.

 

"Does it matter?” Today I had stayed at my room, George had left for the Archives, Lockwood had been away at some event with Miss Wintergarden last night _(he was probably still sleeping)_ , and Holly was cleaning somewhere around the house.

 

_“Of course it matters, if you die under my watch, Lockwood will burry me on the Thames shoreline!”_

 

“He wouldn’t do that, you’re a Type Three, far more valuable than anything on this house’s walls, or us for that matter…”

 

_“Would you cut with the self-pity? It is exhausting to simply look at you; you look like a ghost, a small and scrawny ghost who hunts other ghosts”_

 

It was true that I had lost weight, some of my clothes fitted me big now, but I hadn’t given it much thought.

 

_“Aren't there medicines that can help you?”_

 

“Like I said, what’s the point? I messed up; I let myself get carried away by my instincts, I tried to do something I knew was wrong, and I almost got ghost-touched and Lockwood could have broken his head or have a concussion!”

 

_“I thought you said you didn’t care for Lockwood”_

 

“He is my friend! Of course I care for him!”

 

_“Yet he doesn’t seem to care much for you, he hasn’t commented a thing about your recent change, has he?”_

 

No he hadn’t. He'd been busy with cases, just like I had, and he had been listening to George’s explanations and theories, and he’d been complimenting Holly’s arrangement of our schedule. 

My face burned with the fury of a million Visitors’ touch. Of course he hadn’t noticed! He’d been too busy complimenting on Holly’s efficiency and how tidy she had the house! On the ‘totally mature and non-reckless way’ she had acted at Wintergarden’s house! 

 

“He hasn’t”

 

_“I guess its only a matter of time for him to grow tired of her as well, though, it took him a while to get tired of you, 18 months if I’m not wrong. How long till he gets bored of Holly? Less? More time?”_

 

“I don’t think he’ll ever grow tired of her”

 

_“Oh believe me, he will, the only person he doesn’t seem to get fed up with is Cubbins, and I thought that impossible. Young boys are ridiculously complicated”_

 

A small tear ran down my cheek at the thought of Lockwood wanting me to leave, wanting me out of his life, wanting-

 

_“But what about we keep reading? I rather enjoyed our little experience”_

 

The book had sat on my nightstand, the last page marked with a red ribbon I’ve found in my room. We had been reading it together the other night, and I hadn’t thought I’d enjoy myself so much, I mean, I was reading out loud for a skull! A type three Visitor skull trapped in a jar!

 

“I didn’t thought you would”

 

_“But I did, and I think you did as well, didn’t you?”_

 

“…we left when Dantes is about to talk with the other prisoner, I believe”

 

_“Yes, after like five years in The Chateau D’if”_ Opening the book I eased myself on my bed, eyeing the door suspiciously.

 

“I’ll only read it for you, we don’t want Holly coming in to find you in my arms;

**_‘In the name of heaven’ Dantes cried ‘speak again, though the sound of your voice terrifies me. Who are you?’ ‘Who are you? Said the voice. ‘An unhappy priso…’_ **

 

**———————Lockwood———————**

 

The late morning sun almost seemed to mock me when I came outside my room.

I knew George was away on the Archives or other dusty libraries, and to find Holly cleaning the kitchen was definitely a sight was getting used to.

 

“Good morning Lockwood, I made you tea”

 

“Thanks Holly” She gave me the cup and remained silent. I glanced at the thinking cloth, noticing how full it was of little notes and remarks by George. It had been a while since I’d lay eyes on the cloth.

 

“Am a little concerned about Lucy, Lockwood” Holly’s voice took me out of my thoughts.

 

“Why is that?”

 

“She’s been very distant lately, and quiet, and I haven’t seen her eat, at all, besides, I don’t think she’s getting enough sleep…”

 

Truth was, I hadn’t been paying Lucy any attention recently; I’ve been so angry since what happened at Miss Wintergarden’s mansion, that I closed myself from her. Going with clients all the time, staying in my room or just avoiding having her on my peripheral vision. But, I mean, what am I supposed to do?! Say ‘doesn’t matter, just don’t let it happen again’? She almost died! She could have died there! I ought to be angry and to show her I am angry!

 

“…,I don’t think she’s been listening to George or me at all!”

 

Oh dear, I zoned out.

 

“I’ll go talk to her” The attic was above us, just a few stair steps away, nonetheless, you could never hear a noise mistakenly coming from it. Even so, as I came near it, I heard Lucy’s voice from the other side of the door.

 

**_“…’but you will not leave me; you will come to me, or you will let me come to you. We will escape, and if we cannot escape we will talk; you of those whom you love, and I those of whom I love. You must…’”_ **

 

The skull! Again she was talking with the skull! This days the skull seemed to be in better terms with Lucy, and she despises it! 

What was she talking about just then? Abandonment? Loved ones? Just what kind of conversations did she and the skull engaged into?

Talking about this things with a skull…a Visitor in a skull trapped in a silver jar, for that matter…

 

I turned around without even knocking the door, with a hot, bubbly and disturbing feeling in my stomach.  
...

Stupid skull.


End file.
